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In the 10 seasons the Bobcats have been around they
have only managed winning records against four teams
-- the Timberwolves, Kings, Warriors and one team
from the East. Which team is the fourth and final team
the Bobcats are above .500 against?

Even for dedicated NBA fans, Lawrence Funderburke is the answer to only very difficult
trivia questions. The sweet spot of Funderburke’s career—actually basically his whole
career, discounting a sojourn in Europe and a blink-length cameo for the Chicago Bulls
—was from 1997-2003, when he played 15 minutes a night for the Sacramento Kings to
provide hustle, rebounding, and a breather for All-Star forward Chris Webber. Even
though the Kings were usually a playoff team in that era, the cowbells jangling from
humble, raucous Arco Arena through to bemused television audiences across the nation,
Funderburke never contributed to any of the things that make the NBA sexy and awe-
inspiring. Since his childhood Funderburke has been able to do things on a basketball
court that the rest of us can only do when we are deep in REM. But against the best
competition in the world, his contributions on the court were as glamorous—albeit as
essential—as a faucet, function dwarfing form.

In the 2012-13 NBA season, 18 players—two of whom did not appear in a single game
(Andrew Bynum, Derrick Rose)—earned more money for their year of work than
Funderburke earned throughout his entire NBA career. Combine that with the fact that
Funderburke made his money from a basketball arena surrounded by farmland, and
we have an unlikely candidate to write a book that aspires to provide all professional
athletes with the savvy and foresight to successfully manage their newfound wealth.
However, Funderburke is qualified: he graduated magna *** laude from Ohio State
with a degree in finance, which is an impressive life accomplishment even if he were
not also averaging 14 points a game for the basketball team. And, in the Sacramento
years, Lawrence Funderburke earned over $15 million dollars, a bargain in NBA
budget terms for a dependable but unremarkable bench player like Funderburke.
However, in the real world—and it is worth mentioning that Funderburke does live in
the real world—that is an incomprehensible amount of money.

An important thing to know about Hook Me Up, Playa! is that it is the rare book with
a cover that wages an ideological war against the chapters it contains within. The
front cover was assembled by a person who simply could not have read the actual
book. In a baggy suit, Lawrence Funderburke nonchalantly gestures the money that
charitably drifts like snowflakes around him—some of the bills are immaculate 50s
and 100s captured at improbably front-facing angles; others are crumpled 1s—a
hellish blaze somewhere behind him illuminating the scene in a menacing red, the
book’s title superimposed across his waist, presented in a wacky electric neon font
that a second-grader using WordArt in the Sierra Vista Elementary computer room,
would probably have rejected for being too gimmicky. To judge the book by this
cover, it appears that Funderburke has tossed off a series of name-dropping and
detail-spilling tales to a ghostwriter about his decadent days and upscale nights
holding down one of the world’s more coveted and public jobs.

In reality, the book is a levelheaded and sobering list of lessons about fiscal
responsibility. At times Funderburke even dips into the same optimistically
delusional tone of a textbook or syllabus: “Another good approach for athletes to
educate themselves in this area is to use some of the time they spend traveling to
read and learn about financial matters. Check the Internet or your local library for
recommended reading.” Try to imagine a professional athlete strolling to the local
civic center and loading up on his/her library card before a long road trip, or
ignoring everybody else on the team plane while keeping his/her nose deeply buried
in Your 401(k) for Dummies.

The book’s central refrain continually warns the newly monetarily endowed
professional athlete about the world’s “hook-me-uppers”: those friends, shady
acquaintances, and distant cousins who will emerge from all corners once a
lucrative contract has been signed. The hook-me-uppers will proceed to ask the
athlete for four- and five-figure chunks of that salary to help fund a “can’t-miss
investment opportunity” or similar deal—your spam folder sprung to real life. So,
the title Hook Me Up, Playa! is not a grinning catchphrase asking for another round
of the world’s finer things. It’s the siren song of the shameless scammer who
interprets the wealthy athlete as an unlocked ATM. For Funderburke, the threat of
the hook-me-upper looms so large and inevitable that, like Lord of the Rings, his
tale must be named after its antagonist.

As a person who has been too timid to even say hello to the handful of athletes I have
seen in public, I am boggled by the fact that there are people who not only say “hello”
but do so while trying to reach around into the athlete’s back pocket. Last year, I saw
Kareem Abdul-Jabaar at a record store. I found a low-trafficked corner and then stood
there, jaw agape, watching him browse through the jazz section. If I saw him in a
record store again, I probably would end up doing the same. I just don’t want to
interrupt his, uh, record shopping I guess. So I have very literally no idea what
thoughts go through a person’s head enabling him/her to stride up to an athlete in
public—or boldly dial the number to Lawrence Funderburke’s hotel room, which it
seems plenty of tenacious hook-me-uppers have done over the years—and then ask
for money. I suppose I had always assumed that annoying an athlete in public would
get you wordlessly whisked away by two Kimbo Slice-sized bodyguards.

If the message about hook-me-uppers had not come so modestly and earnestly, I
don’t think I would have believed that the hook-me-upper existed. But I guess the
hook-me-uppers exist, and exist universally—Funderburke doesn’t limit his message to
NBA players...CONTINUE READING AT McSWEENEY'S